Aelin was finished with the sheer level of ignorance surrounding her. Her tiny head dropped, chin to her throat, shaking slowly. Tate was still trying to swallow down his laughter at her antics.
“Moonbeam is her cat,” Silva supplied, if only to prevent her from clearing the ottoman of her tea set and dolls.
“Moonbean used to livehere,” Aelin stressed, looking back and forth between Tate and Silva. “And then he followed my smell! But he lived in the winter place first.”
Tate’s eyes had narrowed again, and now they flicked back and forth between the little elf and Silva with no small amount of suspicion and what she feared was a dawning understanding. She gulped.
“Wintersoup. Dove, where exactly were you when she had thiswinter soup?”
Silva pushed up from the chair. “It doesn’t matter, because we brought her soup from home to share with you.”
“We were in the winter place! It wassocold! I was shivering and Mommy was crying.”
Her daughter was selling her up the river. Aelin was going to wind up producing a transcript of every single illicit conversation in which Silva had participated in the past five years at this rate. Video footage from the flower market. Her receipt from Bell, Book, and Candle. Tate looked openly suspicious now, and she knew he wasn’t going to let this go.
“Winter soup, hmmm . . . Well, I think I canguesswhat might be in it, little princess, but I won’t be able to make that for lunch today. It takes a rather long time. Perhaps I can make it for your dinner sometime soon.”
He was asking permission. She heard the plea in his words, letting them hang, giving her the out by adding theperhaps.
“I think that’s a good idea, bunny. Maybe we’ll have Tate come to our house for dinner. Why don’t you come sit down at the table? I brought your little mousie bowl.”
“Duck blood?” He questioned, already decanting the container into a saucepan. “The princess is a wee carnivore. That’s my favorite sort. Little princess, while the cook prepares your lunch, you’ll need to mind those dolls. Look at how untidy they are. You don’t want them to go marching out the door to find a cleaner place to live.”
Aelin scrambled to line her babies up on the sofa, putting away the box of crayons without needing further prompting.She’s going to turn into a neat freak like him.
Merely pouring the broth and chunks of duck breast into a pan for heating, which was what she’d planned on doing, was clearly insufficient. Silva scowled as he expertly chopped celeryand carrots into perfect, tiny pieces, adding an onion and a garlic clove, salt and pepper, sauteeing the vegetables until the kitchen was fragrant, adding them to the small pot of broth to simmer.
Her own culinary skills had only marginally improved since those early days of marriage. Silva sometimes felt guilty about her reliance on pre-made meal kits and takeout, but would remind herself that she was a single mother doing the best she was able. She made sure to have her daughter’s favorites on hand at all times, and Aelin was growing as she should.And here comes Mr. Gourmet. She’s going to want her soup like this every time now. Silva blew out an aggrieved breath when he cut several slices from a loaf of crusty bakery bread, cubing them down before giving them a drizzle of olive oil and popping them in the oven.
Tate turned to find her glaring at his back. His eyes widened for an innocent moment before they narrowed and he grinned. It was the quicksilver smile she knew so well, nearly a smirk, making her belly swoop and her spine quiver.
“Careful, dove. You don’t want your face to get stuck in a snarl.”
He shared a bowl of soup with Aelin, listened to her chatter about her new school, the playground they had visited, the petting zoo at the farm, the chipmunk that lived in the drain spout of Dynah’s condo, just behind theirs. He kept rapt attention the entire time, asking questions, determining what she liked, what she didn’t, measuring her reactions. Silva had seen this level of attention before. It was what he’d given her. He noticed everything, he committed everything to memory, and she had no doubt that by the next time they came to visit him here, the entire apartment would be remade from a Silva space to one for Aelin.
“Would you like to take a walk? We can bring a treat to the ducks at the lake.”
She cleared away the lunch bowls, washing them in the sink as he helped Aelin with her shoes then waited, hand in hand, with half a bag of defrosting frozen peas, for Silva at the door. If she had thought this ice-breaking introductory visit was going to be a challenge for either of them, she would have been sorely mistaken.
“She was yawning some,” he told her in a low voice, as Aelin flung peas in the water, delighting in the frenzy caused by the mallards who swam to her. “I thought a bit of a walk would be good. I don’t know if she takes a nap . . .”
“She does, most days,” Silva confirmed, disliking the tightness she felt. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? For him to choose them, to stay, to behome? To give Aelin another person upon whom she could depend?You’re not used to sharing her. You’re not used to her loving anyone but you. “She-she loves you already. I can tell. She normally takes a long, long time to warm up to new people. Thank you for making the right choice.”
Their voices were hushed, standing only a short distance away from where Aelin crouched, looking at the ducks.
“Silva, you act like I would’ve made a different one? D’you think I would’ve run away from this? From her? From you? Do you thinkthisisn’t what I would’ve chosen for us if I’d been able? Five days, dove.”
Tears burned their way into the corner of her eyes as she nodded. He had a hand curled over the railing of the little bridge where they stood, and all she wanted to do was slip hers beneath it. She settled for hooking her pinky around his again. Small. Easily overlooked, perhaps. But the warmth of his skin was enough to unravel her entirely. “What do we do now?” Her voice was soft. “You have to make another decision.”
“No,” he corrected. “Ido not. I’m not the one who’s had five bleedin’ years to change her mind.” He pulled his eyes from Aelin just long enough to meet hers, pain-filled goldendepths. “Days, Silva. My feelings haven’t changed. This has been the longest two weeks of my whole miserable life. Ifyoufeel differently, dove, that’s your decision to make . . . but don’t think that means I’m backing away from her.”
She’d not been the only one who’d spent the past few days twisting over their future, clearly.At least one of us is certain. Silva exhaled slowly, keeping her emotions in check.For now.
“I didn’t say that. I told you . . . I’dstillbe looking for you if she hadn’t come along. But we can’t go back to the way things were. I’m not the elf you left. I told you, you might not like who I’ve become. We were already broken, Tate.”
“Can we not do this now, please?”
His voice was still low, his eyes already refocused on the tiny girl throwing peas to the ducks . . . but his hand enveloped hers fully, holding her tightly. It wasn’t too late for them to start over. She wouldn’t let it be.
